Chapter 7: The walk and an unexpected sight

The late afternoon sun filtered through the canopy like scattered gold, dappling the forest trail with light and shadow. Above them, birds called in quick bursts—like nature's own cryptic commentary. The group ambled ahead, their laughter tangled with the rustling leaves, their conversation punctuated with teasing and inside jokes. The air was thick with the scent of damp soil and distant blossoms, grounding them in this lush, untamed slice of the world.

They called it "the walk," but to Lilith it felt more like an unspoken ritual. Each time they ventured deeper into the woods, something shifted—quietly, imperceptibly. Their bodies moved forward, but their minds floated freely.

Lilith followed in silence, her steps steady, her mind drifting. Fragments of old dreams tugged at her, memories she couldn't quite piece together. A cool breeze skimmed her cheeks, whispering questions she couldn't answer. The others had become shadows ahead, their presence swallowed by the forest's growing density.

When she finally paused, the trail looked wrong. The trees leaned in closer now, their branches swaying like arms in slow motion. Moss crept across roots in patterns that felt vaguely familiar and eerily unfamiliar at once. Her chest tightened. Not again.

She turned, expecting to catch a glimpse of someone—anything—but the path behind her had dissolved into tangled underbrush. Panic threatened to take hold, but she drew in a slow breath and listened.

That was when she heard it: water, moving gently, like fingertips brushing silk. She moved toward the sound, drawn instinctively, ducking beneath low-hanging branches and stepping over roots that clawed at her boots.

The clearing unfolded before her like something out of a storybook—almost too perfect to be real. The pond lay nestled among stones and wildflowers, its surface barely disturbed except for the occasional ripple. Light danced across it with a quiet serenity.

And there he was.

A stranger at the water's edge—bare-chested, lean but sculpted in that effortless way that suggested motion over muscle. His hair was a wild cascade of deep crimson, curling slightly where dampness clung to the ends, as though the fire of his roots had met the coolness of the pond. Every drop of water that traced down his skin gleamed against his warm, bronze-toned complexion, which seemed to drink in the sunlight like it belonged in its glow.

But it was his eyes that truly arrested her. Red—not the harsh crimson of warning, but something darker, more enigmatic. They flared with a quiet intensity, sharp and unflinching, as if they saw more than they let on. He stood tall, maybe six feet, with a grace that felt at odds with the stillness around him. Like someone perpetually prepared to vanish into the trees yet anchored firmly to this moment.

Lilith's breath caught. It was as if she'd stumbled across a spirit made flesh—too striking, too composed, too peculiar to belong to the ordinary world.

Lilith stopped dead. She didn't know where to look—or if she should look at all. There was something mesmerizing about the moment: the contrast between the deep wilderness and the quiet vulnerability of someone caught mid-bath. She felt like she'd stumbled into someone's secret, a sacred thread in the fabric of this place.

Her foot cracked a twig beneath her weight, and his head turned sharply.

Their eyes met.

For a second that stretched impossibly long, neither spoke. The silence was a language of its own—filled with questions, half-formed thoughts, and unspoken permission. Lilith's breath hitched, unsure whether she should explain herself or simply retreat.

But the stranger didn't move. His gaze remained calm, almost curious. No shame, no alarm. Just quiet acceptance.

Something in that stillness tugged at her. She felt as though the forest had granted her passage not just into this hidden place—but into something deeper. Something that hadn't yet revealed its purpose. 

And then gravity took its course

Lilith, caught between retreat and fascination, shifted her weight—and a rogue root had other plans. Her boot snagged, balance abandoned her, and she tumbled forward with a startled yelp. Leaves scattered, and her palms scraped earth as she landed gracelessly on the forest floor.

The splash from the pond came seconds later.

He moved fast.

Before she could regain composure or even fully realize what had happened, he was beside her—bare, dripping, utterly unbothered by the barrier nature hadn't provided. His lean frame caught the light in surreal glints, wet skin and red eyes carving him out like a figure from half-forgotten mythology.

"Are you alright?" he asked, voice low and clear, his hand reaching down without hesitation.

She stared for one breath too long. The blush rose like wildfire, starting somewhere in her throat and flooding her cheeks. She grabbed his hand, barely meeting his gaze, desperately pretending not to notice the fact that he was, quite evidently, naked.

"I'm fine," she muttered, her voice about three shades higher than usual. "Just... gravity being dramatic."

He helped her up gently, his expression unreadable—neither smirking nor shy, simply serene. But the flush in her skin didn't fade, and she became intensely aware of every leaf, every breeze, every inch of exposed wilderness around them.

And him.

She cleared her throat. "So, you bathe in random forest ponds often?"

His lips twitched, just slightly. "Only when they find me first."

Just as Lilith began to gather herself, voices rang out through the trees—more of the group emerging behind Mira.

"Lilith! We've been looking everywhere!" "You wandered off again?" "You always find the weirdest places…"

Their chatter bounced through the clearing like pebbles skipping water, but Lilith barely registered them. Her eyes darted back to the pond.

Empty.

The stranger was gone.

No ripples, no splashes. No movement. It was as if he had evaporated into the air—leaving behind only the shimmer of the water and the echo of his presence.

Lilith stepped forward instinctively, scanning the surrounding trees, the underbrush, the stones near the pond. Nothing. Not even a footprint. Keira glanced at her with raised brows.

"Who are you looking for?" Keira asked, following her gaze.

"I... don't know," Lilith murmured. She couldn't quite mask the disappointment in her voice. "He was right here."

"You sure you didn't hit your head in that fall?" one of the others teased, but Lilith ignored it. She was still staring at the water, half expecting red eyes to surface from its depths.

Something about his sudden absence felt deliberate. Too clean. Too quiet. Like she had crossed into a moment meant only for her—and now the forest had taken it back.

As the group pulled her away with laughter and teasing and hands on her shoulder, Lilith glanced back one last time.

A single crimson strand of hair floated near the pond's edge.

Just one...